


Absolute Power

by KuraiTsuky



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopian Future, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Gore, Character Study, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Thinly veiled allussions to a dictatorship, Torture, Triggers, Unhealthy Relationships, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiTsuky/pseuds/KuraiTsuky
Summary: Obito is just about to find out what's the price of rebellion in Madara's world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story that has been eating me alive for the past few months. I've been unable to write anything of consistence while this was rattling about in my head. Hopefully now I'll be free from its shadow.  
> It's a very dark story and has many triggers, including explicit rape and physical torture so if it's not your cup of tea you should stop reading now. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you are still reading, thank you. I hope you enjoy your reading.

Absolut Power

 

‘I want to speak with my uncle’ he had said, but when the door finally opens and the man walks through, Obito’s hopeful smile promptly slips from his face. He doesn’t recognize this man, he remembers the man who told him crazy stories about faraway lands and bounced him in his legs with a smile, he can’t help but wonder what happened to the Madara in front of him to break him so much.

As he approaches a straggler second of hope starts to vanish as well.

“Uncle…” he starts, the slap echoes in the chamber as he falls from the chair, his bound arms jerking in an awkward position.

“You will refer to me as General, and nothing else” Madara’s voice is rough and now that he has a good look to his face up close, he realizes, Madara looks like he has aged ten years in just a couple, his eyes are red from the lack of sleep and some gray hairs have started to appear in his temple.

They shine when the man crouches, taking a hold of his arms and hauling him up back into the metal chair.

“Tell me where the others are” it’s not even a question and Obito gulps, truths and lies amassing alike in his mouth, he’s tempted to just confess to evade the pain Madara’s eyes promise to deliver. He doesn’t though, they are his responsibility, he got them out, he can’t force them back now, he promised.

When he realizes he’s not going to answer, Madara slaps him again, harder even, and Obito can feel his lip splitting under his uncle’s fingers. He spits the blood at his feet, literally over the, until then, perfectly polished boots. His satisfaction is short lived.

More blows rain on him now, pain explodes behind his eyelids, for a moment, he doesn’t know where he is, he blinks looking around, spots of light dance before his eyes, there is a big blur in front of him, moving. Obito blinks a couple of times more until the lines of his uncle’s silhouette start to clear. He’s cleaning his hands, the knuckles are bloody, he wonders if all of the blood is his or some belongs to Madara too. The door makes a thunderous sound when he leaves. Alone, Obito curls on the floor and closes his eyes, just for a moment.

He wakes up when water is splashed over him, the pressure displaces him a couple of inches. When it stops and he opens his eyes Obito sees it came from a hose. His breath is shaking as he’s put back on the chair and he doesn’t know if it’s due to the coldness of the water or the look in his uncle’s eyes. Should he even keep calling Madara that? This… man… this…. whatever he is now he doesn’t recognize.

His family doesn’t have a good record when talking about their sanity but this is too much even for an Uchiha. He awaits more hits, or at least more questions, but Madara just stands there looking at him while Obito tries to distinguish the emotions that flash trough his eyes.  Is he still looking for hope? He’s such an idiot.

Obito laughs, not caring about the frown that it causes in his interrogator. It seems everyone was right and his just a stupid boy trying to change an unchangeable world. He couldn’t save Rin or their master, but he won’t give his rag tag band away too.

“Do your worst if you want” surprisingly, his voice comes out steady “I won’t tell you shit” And it’s true, Madara can do anything to him, he won’t change who he is or the promises he’s made.

It turns out that’s the worst thing he could have said. In the following hours, or is it days perhaps? Madara proceeds to chew him up and spit him out after. Systematically, physically broken, Obito clings to memories of the time he was happy, it seems so long ago.

He almost succumbs twice, bloody and in pain he only wants it all to stop, but it’s not the blows or the currents what breaks him in the end.

“You will tell me where they are” Madara’s voice booms, resonating, clawing in his eardrums “You will tell me where your rebel friends have hidden away and then you will be executed for your betrayal. I will stop you from dishonoring your father’s name anymore. For once in your life you will make things right.”

Obito fights with himself then, he won’t cry, he’d rather choke on his own tongue than cry in front of this monster. He almost manages to do so, but Madara forces his fingers into his mouth pining his tongue.

“Not yet, not until I know what I need” he grunts. Obito struggles against him and manages to dislodge his hand, head-butting him right after. If the sickening noise is not sufficient clue, the roar is more than enough, he’s broken something. He sees the retaliation come flying towards him but can’t do anything to stop it.

 

Obito wakes up to find Madara’s face much too close for comfort, for a second he thinks he sees a strand of concern flickering in those black pupils much like his own. It passes so fast Obito doubts if it wasn’t his imagination.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Madara is fed up and he throws him to the floor twisting and bending his arms until his hands lay on the cement. Obito tries to find some leverage but with his uncle leaning heavily on him it’s impossible.

“Your last chance”

He grits his teeth as a response.

Madara then relies more of his weight on him and takes his right hand, forcibly opening it against the cement floor. For a moment, Obito doesn’t know what is going to happen, he then sees from the awkward position he’s in, in a slow motion like manner, how Madara’s leg rises over his pinned hand, and falls.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” there is a ragged scream echoing on the room, a horrible, wretched thing. Obito looks at his hand, fingers out of place under his uncle’s heavy boot and recognizes the scream as his own.

“You used to love playing,” says Madara nonchalantly, ignoring his sobs of pain “I remember how you would spend hours upon hours practicing. Now I could bind your hands twisted and no one would give a damn about it healing all wrong. It’s sad really, since playing was the only thing you truly exceled in” he adds cruelly and Obito hates him for it.

He understands now, that dark feeling inside him, it’s not rage or thirst for justice, it’s a burning hatred that just uncoiled consuming him whole.

Madara puts down his other hand and Obito starts to panic, his vision turns blurry and the air seems to have disappeared. He barely even feels his bones being crushed under what seems like a ton of rubber and leather. Barely.

As unconsciousness comes, once more, to pick him up, he can only think of how much he hates Madara.

It is said, the more you love someone the more you will end up hating him. It seems to be true.

 

He awakes on a cell, dark, grim and foul smelling. He tries to unbind his wrists, but Madara has, faithful to this promise at least, bound his hands crooked. Obito refuses to cry still, he knows there must be a camera, Madara wouldn’t want to miss his pain, he’s sadistic like that.

Obito chews at the ropes until his gums bleed, at some point, he notices his wrists are bleeding too. In all honesty, he doesn’t care. A quick death would be better than whatever his uncle has in store for him at this point. Obito thinks about banging his head against the steel door, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to go all the way through with that. If he died now though, would he see Rin again? Would her eternal smile be there to welcome him into the afterlife? He doesn’t think so, if he surrenders now her sacrifice will have been for nothing.

With renewed conviction and gritting his teeth, ignoring the blood that runs through them, Obito bangs at the door, screaming at the top of his lungs. His whole body hurts but he doesn’t pay mind to that, he’ll keep on hitting the steel, reopening his wounds until someone comes around.

No one does, nor comes any food or water and Obito realizes he’s being left to starve. Is this how things are supposed to be? He’s not the one that is wrong, he knows that much. But long ago Obito already learned that there is no justice in this bleak wasteland, trying to change that is what’s landed him in this spot.

The next day or when he thinks the next day is, he screams again and pounds until he can’t stand any longer. There is no bed in the cell, and when it becomes cold, he curls on himself by reflex, shivering into an uneasy sleep.

He surrenders eventually, when it becomes painfully obvious that nobody is coming for him. There is no salvation waiting for Obito. With his wrists still tied and his hands bound in awkward angles, Obito lies in his back looking at the mold that plagues the ceiling and closes his eyes, he’s not even hungry anymore.

At least the others are safe outside Konoha, he thinks.

 

 

A soldier with silver hair comes in after some days, when Obito has already stopped screaming and pounding at the door and believing himself forsaken, has simply stopped caring. His bones have already started to heal crooked, so when the soldier unbinds his wrists taking his fingers and starts to straighten them they hurt as much as they did when they were broken.

Obito looks at his hand, now perfectly aligned and bandaged and to the man “Why? Won’t you get in trouble?” he can’t quite keep the hope from lacing his voice. It quickly vanishes once again when he speaks.

“Don’t flatter yourself, the General just changed his mind” The man says scornful, but Obito notices the appreciative look he directs at his half naked body just before exiting. Somehow that only makes him feel more uneasy.

The soldier doesn’t come back but from that point on, a tray of food, or something that looks vaguely edible, starts to appear twice a day. It is still hard to eat, he has to pick the tray and rise it towards his mouth. He feels like an animal and realizes that the lack of even a spoon (not that he could use it given the persisting state of his hands) is meant to make him feel exactly like that.

He manages to not question again Madara’s sanity, he will lose his own if he keeps on doing so. In the end it doesn’t really matter the reasons, the whys or the hows, he’s still here, in a moldy cement cube and his uncle is out there, somewhere in Konoha screwing the world over.

He’s not the betrayer, no matter what Madara and his militaristic drones say. When he took Minato sensei’s mantle, when he made the blonde’s fight his own he didn’t do it because he felt scorned or wanted power, he did it because he hoped, deep down, that the world could become a better place. He scoffs at himself, again with the hoping, when will he learn? Obito hates the familiar feeling, everything he’s done in his life has been to prove everyone wrong, to be someone he could be proud of. To make it so nobody would have to go through what he had to endure and now they call him a traitor for it. So much for helping people.

Maybe Madara is right, perhaps he can only help himself.

If he could, he’d pull at his hair. In spite of everything, Obito can’t think only about himself. 

 

They come for him three days later, a group, they drag him out of the cell and into somewhere white and creepy that turns out to be a bathroom. He resists at first but a threatening tug at his fingers makes him go still. The men wash his hair and trim it, and scrub his skin with some sort of hardened hair brush until it’s red and burns. They then soak him in fragrant oil and dress him in silks. Crimson and purple, with the Uchiha fan stitched at the neck, it makes him sick at the stomach.

As he walks, Obito can’t help but feel naked despite the double coverage. Sunlight blinds him, when his eyes recover, he looks at all the new constructions, efficient cubes and rectangles, that fill Konoha and realizes he doesn’t recognize the city now. This is not his city anymore.

Madara’s office is big, more so due to the lack of furniture. Only the table and the chair his uncle sits in. Even the soldier, the same that straightened his fingers, Obito notices, has to stand. The dread pooled in his stomach violently shakes when he sees the hunger in the soldier’s or rather, Captain judging from the stripes, eyes when he looks at him.

Madara’s eyes instead seem made of bulletproof glass, nothing comes in and nothing comes out.

“You will be given to Captain Kakashi as a reward to his loyalty and bravery in battle, and to commence your reeducation.” He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to, the words feel like the nails in his coffin.

The silver haired man, Kakashi apparently, walks in front of Madara and bows before pushing him through the door. As he numbly follows, he thinks he should try to escape, the guards are gone, it’s just this Kakashi and him, but looking around he notices he’s in the new part of the town, and he doesn’t know how to get out of here.

Obito is more trapped here, in the open with just one man, than he was in his cell.

 

The Captain’s house is big, fairly new and white save the two purple and crimson standards. All the furniture is also white, Obito feels like he just stepped into a hospital wing. He keeps his thoughts to himself though, seeing the little satisfied smile in the man’s face when he misinterprets his surprise for awe.

He is guided to a bedroom ‘Of course I am’ he thinks sourly.

‘What’s with the white?’ he wonders as he steps into the room. The bed, walls and the furniture are again made in such color. He doesn’t know if it’s due to the covers but the bed looks enormous. Obito is tempted to run away again, when he looks around and notices he’s alone. Then the captain walks from what seems to be the bathroom, the sound of the shower reverberating behind him.

“Clean yourself of the oils, I find them uncomfortable”

Obito can see why people follow this man, he’s tempted to just bow and do as he says, he’s also tempted to knee him in the groin. In the end, he doesn’t say anything walking past by and closing the bathroom door. He can’t run until he knows where he is, until he reckons the area, for that he needs some semblance of freedom, so for now he’ll play along. Obito tries to ignore the fear that creeps up his body at all the implications the order has.

He spends a solid fifteen minutes in the shower, basking in the warm water, he can almost feel the anxiety sweeping from the other room, and after a while, thankfully when he’s already drying himself, the door opens to show a pissed off Captain. He dries himself completely and leaves the towel behind, he desperately needs to cover himself as he walks pass the man, but he reasons it won’t do him any good, he knows what comes next doesn’t precise coverings.

“Lay on the bed on your stomach and open your legs”

Should he feel satisfied because the man’s voice sounds strained? Obito doesn’t know, he barely feels anything right now, his body is numb and he has the sensation of seeing what is happening from the outside, it’s like this isn’t real, if he can keep the feeling away maybe everything will be all right. However as he’s finished accommodating on the mattress, a cold hand lands on his leg and chains him to reality.

He tries to calm his tremors, but he’s never really done this, not even with Rin. And now he doesn’t have a choice. Obito feels a hysteric bubble of laughter tickling at the back of his throat, he never imagined he would end up like this even when most of the world predicted his fall long before he even spoke, he always hoped. It seems like he hoped too much when everyone was right all along.

He refuses to call the captain by his given name, he won’t humanize the enemy. Obito does as he was told and presses his bandaged fingers against the sheets to stop the trembling form being so obvious. He swallows then swallows again trying to control the fear that’s climbing up his skin, or is it the Captain? At least he won’t have to wait much for this to be over, Obito thinks feeling nauseous.

He gags, burying his face in the mattress to hide it, when a finger, much dryer than it should, boldly enters him to the second phalange. Obito can’t even scream. He doesn’t know when he last ate, everything seems foggy like that now, but he can feel the vomit reverberating on the back of his throat, burning like acid. He doesn’t swallow, he hopes he’ll just choke on it.

For all that he’s been called a crybaby he doesn’t shed a single tear. Far too soon, another finger adds to the first one, pushing and pushing as if to reach the very center of his being. It’s not tender, not even soft, it’s mechanical as if it were something necessary yet inconvenient. Then the fingers pull out and something blunt, hot and much, much bigger takes their place.

The cry sticks to his throat in a knot he doesn’t know how to dislodge. With an awareness that feels like a curse, Obito feels everything. Every push, no matter how small, every tear in his insides, and the pressure, he had thought the fingers were bad, but this… he’s pressed against the mattress, he’s not sure if it’s his doing or the _man’s_ and he can’t move. Finally, fucking finally, the Captain seems to reach the end and Obito starts to go numb again. He doesn’t feel anything but the stabbing pain, he wonders if it’s just physical with a hint of madness lacing his thoughts. He can only hear a high pitched ringing. And he can’t see either. For a moment, he only knows blissful darkness and prickling pain like fine daggers inserting themselves on his body. Then, everything seems to come back all at once.

It’s like the air has been punched from him. He’s nothing more than a ragdoll, bounding hard and painfully on the bed, moving against his will from the impact, Obito guesses there are better words to describe what that is supposed to be, but he can’t use ‘movement’ there is nothing, soft or calculated about it. He can hear the grunts, feel the fingers digging into his skin, he barely feels them at all though, over the rawness between his legs.

He’s bleeding he can tell. Now the Captain slides better, but somehow he feels harder. Obito wonders if that means he’s close, if that means this will end soon. It does, but not nearly soon enough. Suddenly, the movement stops, the Captain, rigid atop him, groans, deep and worn and something hot and viscous burns at his wounds. The revulsion is too much and he’s tempted to choke himself on the sheets.

Obito knows, technically what has happened, he also knows that technicality or not, there is not wetness on his side. His hands hurt too, like the rest. It’s the only pain he’s responsible for right now. Broken and all he’s been gripping the fabric between his fingers. Now, when he lets go, he realizes the trembling is back.

Obito forces the bile down when the man falls heavily on top of him. He wants to cry so badly… but he won’t give them the satisfaction. He swallows until the taste of vomit in his mouth sort of disappears, then moves his legs gritting his teeth and turns to lay on his side, the Captain’s arms never leave him.

 

Obito closes his eyes forcing the images of what just happened deep into his mind and shutting the door to his brain. If he dwells, if he replays what happened, he will break and he can’t break right now. Obito holds on to the cracking pieces of the aging photo that is his soul, trying to reaffirm his own existence, even if it’s only to himself.

As always, it is Rin what puts him back together in the end. The bright smile that still burns behind his eyelids forever immortal in his memories. Obito grips that image with all that’s left of him and swears to never let it go. If he disappears now, who will remember her? Everyone else that loved her is dead. At least she’s in much better company, he thinks. Loneliness claws at him, a dark, twisted thing that seeks to see him surrender. Obito feels the need to run right in that moment, but when he tries to turn again, free himself from the arms constraining him, he finds he can’t.

The man is still holding him in a vice like grip; Obito feels the puffs of his breathing messing up his already messed up locks. He can’t get out of it without alerting the other. Not that he could walk properly right now. Obito watches or rather, feels the man, if he even can call him that, sleep, expecting his own rest to come soon. It doesn’t.

And by the time the sky lightens, he still hasn’t slept a wink. But he has a plan, with a lucidity inconsistent with a night of insomnia, he has finally found his answer.

Madara _was_ right. He will fight for himself, but he’ll do it on his own terms.

 

Obito closes his eyes and forces his breathing to even out when the Captain starts to stir, his heartbeat thrums in his ears no matter how much he tries to calm it down. He’s tempted to breathe in relief when the other simply gets up and walks into the bathroom but doesn’t dare until he hears water running. He still doesn’t move, the mere idea pains him in more ways he’s able to describe. The man doesn’t stop to look at him as he prepares for the day and Obito is almost grateful.

He only moves when he hears the front door closing. He forces his legs into working and steps out of the bed. Obito immediately falls to his knees, how he suppresses the yell that claws at his throat is beyond him. He crawls to the bathroom like an animal. There is no shame in that, perhaps there’s never been, maybe he inherently knows he’s not the one at fault here. But just mayhap, this shame is so overwhelmed by the one he feels for all the other failures in his life that it simply doesn’t register enough.

He manages to get to the shower, somehow. The water is cold as ice and by the time it heats up, he doesn’t feel his legs. He should be grateful, Obito thinks, given the circumstances. The caked blood slowly starts to dislodge from his skin, his legs tremble under the near scalding water but he doesn’t feel clean. He hasn’t feel clean in a long, long time. At least his self-loathing isn’t because of the Captain. Obito, ambivalently guesses it’s a small consolation. He stays under the spray of water until his fingers go pruney. Obito then turns the shower off but doesn’t move. He’s not particularly inclined to go back to the bed and the mere idea of standing brings tears to his eyes. He must have fallen asleep on the shower floor, Obito reckons stirring awake. There is no confusion, no panic, he knows exactly where he is and that there is no escape.

Making a humongous effort, Obito stands and softly pads back to the bedroom. It’s dark outside, but he’s still alone. Thank the Gods. The captain will get here soon enough he knows, and despite the relative calm, an hour from now is still too damn soon.

Obito lays on the clean side of the bed breathing through his nose. Every part of the sheets smell like that man and the smallest whiff revolts him. He’s trying very hard not to think when the sound of the door disturbs his not quite thoughts. He dreads every step that comes up the stairs, Obito feels sick to the stomach with every exhalation he hears. He knows what’ll come next, he tries to get a grip on his feelings but he’s still not ready when the door opens.

 

Obito doesn’t know if he’s getting used to his new life or just becoming insensitive. As every morning for a few weeks now, he pretends to be asleep and takes a shower. He limps to the closet after, it’s built in and almost indistinguishable from the rest of the white panels that cover the wall. Inside, there’s all the Captain’s uniforms and a couple of silk kimonos for him. He chooses the one in mauve and takes the one he wore yesterday down to clean it. He personally thinks the kimono is fine after just one day of use but whatever. He’s long since gotten used to the Captain’s weirdness.

If he didn’t have to stand him in bed too, he might fight it endearing.

Later, while the laundry dries, Obito is sitting in the leather couch in the living room reading when the Captain enters. He’s not surprised, the other man has made an effort to come to the house for lunch every day after the first week. Obito can’t fathom why. He immediately gets up, and without looking at the man in the face, walks past him towards the kitchen. After a moment, he hears the other coming after and tightens his grip on the knife he’s holding. If only he could get away with sinking it in the Captain’s throat…

“You are supposed to say at least hello” he hears in that detestable, arrogant, matter of fact voice.

“Hello” he manages to get out between his teeth. Despite the time he’s been trapped in this house playing at time house maid, at times whore for this man, they’ve barely crossed more than a few words, most of them on his captor’s side. Having to talk to the man in question on top of everything is more painful than he’s willing to recognize. But he’s spent every waking moment since that night he decided to fight back, constructing his armor and it won’t crack for a few meaningless words that will be forgotten as soon as the other gets out of the door again.

“You know?” comes the lazy drabble “I expected you to be a little more grateful”

And that is the problem, isn’t it? Obito thinks chopping the lettuce a little harder than necessary. Both Madara and this man expected him to just take it lying down, to accept what they’ve done to his City, to his future and to him, and on top of that he has to be grateful?

It’s a testament to his self-control that he doesn’t scream at the Captain what he thinks of him and his goddamned superior or at least try to punch him. For his part, the other comes up to him –Obito was too caught trying to reign his rage to notice- and takes his face between rough fingers forcing him to look him in the eye.

“The only reason a traitor like you is still alive is because I wanted you, otherwise you would have been executed.”

Perhaps that is not the best way to go about in a conversation, Obito thinks cynically, but he bows his head, freeing it form the other’s touch, so he won’t see that his words don’t even put a dent in Obito’s armor. He bites down on the reply, he will have time once he gets out of here, to get back at him. Obito busies himself with the food while thinking, in vivid detail, of the pleasure he’s going to find in making the man pay.

Oh, and he does start to participate, he smiles when is appropriate and moans and throws his head back when he can’t stand to look at the man in the face anymore. He leaves love bites along his neck when the only thing he wants to do is ripping it off.

Obito doesn’t enjoy himself, yes, there is less pressure and barely any blood, but there is no pleasure either. Then something changes, the captain starts to relax around him perhaps, or maybe it’s just his body growing accustomed, but after some time he doesn’t have to fake as much, even if still, still he doesn’t manage to cum. He also discovers a more natural way to disguise his hatred, with an arm across his eyes and a loud moan and maybe even a small kiss after. He hates himself the day he finally cums. But it doesn’t break him like he expected, perhaps he is much too broken already or maybe that particular hatred just adds to his general bile. Obito notices the resignation and acceptance sweeping into his train of thought but doesn’t try to stop it, the numbness at least doesn’t add to the pain.

After some time he wraps his legs around the captain’s waist of his own volition and willingly pulls the other closer. Is it the Captain softer now? Is it indeed his body that’s grown used to the treatment? It might be that he has finally lost the last thread of his sanity, that, or he’s secretly a masochist.

And as he lays, sweaty and exhausted on the worse for wear sheets, Obito can’t help but wonder when exactly the Captain turned into Kakashi. It won’t matter in the end, it can’t matter, he made a promise to a beautiful, dying girl as his hands tried to hold her together. He made a promise to the one person in this world that looked at him and really saw, and he’s going to go through with it.

 

 

As he feels Kakashi’s possessive embrace, Obito realizes the man truly loves him. But it is a love like Madara’s. They don’t love him, him, they love the idea of him. Madara likes the boy he used to be, in his mind, an innocent child that would never bring up his mistakes. And Kakashi likes the lie of compliance he has built around himself.

‘Is it love then?’ He wonders, none of them seems to know his true self, or perhaps none of them cares. They fall into a terribly boring routine, but the lies become easier and easier to spread. Soon, he finds himself lying through his teeth at the smallest interaction, in fact he does it so much, he’s starting to forget where the lies end and reality begins. Obito finds he’s starting not to care at all.

He makes plans and then remakes them. He’s never been of the patient sort but through pain and blood he’s learned to wait. He plans and plots and takes advantage of the millimeters of freedom his lies buy for him. It’s not pretty, Obito knows, it’s not pretty but it’s war. It’s a war he’s been fighting for far too long, that has taken far too much and he’s fucking sick of it already. He will finish this war and make a world Rin would be proud of.

It still stings to think of her, but the pain is diminishing, he worries what that says about him. He forces all thoughts about her deep into his mind, he needs to concentrate for what’s coming and not even the simple memories of Rin deserve to be soiled.

Still half-dressed, Obito sees Kakashi out, once he’s sure the other man hasn’t forgotten something, he runs into the house and connects the appliances, he starts to research weaknesses in his uncle’s army. He looks up battle formations and past strategies until he knows them better than he knows himself. Day after day, he sees Kakashi out with a kiss and goes inside to plot his defeat.

 

A couple of days later, Kakashi comes home late, there is an elated look on his face and Obito smells the bad news from a mile away.

“Konoha will start the invasion now” Kakashi says, and Obito’s steps falters making him fall onto the new couch covers he just finished putting in place. Kakashi frowns at his reaction and Obito immediately knows he has to do something to wipe his suspicion away. He throws himself in his arms, his best impression of a damsel in distress always softens the Captain.

“I just worry about you” he feels Kakashi shedding the tension and his arms come up to embrace him back.

“Nothing will happen to me I promise” the man says burying his nose in his black spikes.

“I hope so” Obito murmurs against his chest, and suddenly realizes, bewildered, that he means it.

 

Alone in the hall, still looking at the place Kakashi disappeared from, Obito can feel the terrible weight of the lies he told, mostly to himself, to keep the tears away. Now that he’s finally alone, completely so, the weight comes crashing down and at last, he allows himself to cry. Now comes the hardest part he knows. His war, his own personal hell.

He has been preparing for months for this. For his revenge. All the lies have been to precipitate this moment and he’s ready. He has to be.

Obito steals a uniform and a couple of pistols and walks out of the house. He doesn’t look back, not because he might falter but because there is nothing for him back there.

He has reached out to all his old contacts and with his access to Kakashi’s intel and the impending invasion on Madara’s Konoha’s side, they must have been able to sneak back in. He hopes. He walks through the previously happy, sunny streets and something twists in his stomach when he sees them grey, filled with garbage and emptied of people. Some of them, the twisted alleys where he once run and played, border a state of disrepair. The safe house is in one such alley and he remembers when it was a nursery school, there is still some cheerful paintings on the wall. Dirty and chipped off they are more horrifying than endearing. Suddenly, Obito feels so old…

He sits precariously on the rubble letting one of his legs hanging and waits. He honestly expects the others to show up but even if they don’t he’s going to go through with his plan, he had no choice now and in all truth, even if he had he’d chose the same way.

They start to approach hesitantly, timidly almost. It’s been a little over an hour by Obito’s calculation, so much for punctuality he scoffs.  There’s only fourteen or fifteen of them. He doesn’t recognize most, they are younger than him, or at least look like it. It doesn’t matter they’re not enough, more will rise to support them he knows. He starts the reunion and outlines his plans, some of them anyway. Obito hasn’t trusted anyone in some time and he’s not about to start now. Trust cost him his freedom, trust cost him Rin and Minato –sensei, trust is to be earned and no one alive in this world has earned his.

Just as he’s speaking, another group enters and Obito has to keep his tears at bay. These are not of shame nor pain, but of joy. He hasn’t cried out of happiness in a long, long time and it feels almost like a regression despite the familiarity. In the end, he rules his emotions and walks towards the woman. Obito expects her to hold him guilty of her husband’s death, but Kushina just holds on to him and whispers in his ear how relieved she is to see him alive and well. The alive part is obvious, the well…he’s not going to tell for he doesn’t know himself.

They talk and plan, and as they bend over a map deciding about positioning and attack strategies, he can see the desperation and the pain dancing behind the redhead’s beautiful grey eyes. He guesses they are all mostly the same so he doesn’t comment about it either. It takes a while but they are prepared when the maps are rolled up and stashed away. No need for more planning and Obito can feel his blood boiling.

To battle then, he thinks ignoring the childish urge to bow like a clown.

 

Whatever defenders were left are not near good enough for them. Especially Obito and Kushina, who are blooded and trained. Looking at the blood soaked streets of the city he loves, Obito admires his handiwork. Some have escape, and they will be alerting Madara as to his uprising. Let them come, he thinks, that’s what he’s been counting on from the beginning.

“Start fortifying Konoha!” he orders, if they expect an easy entry they have another thing coming. Of course in the past Madara would have expected him to do this, but now… he’s perhaps betting too much in the man thinking him broken. Not that he isn’t, just not the way his uncle thinks.

They put up everything they can to block the doors and the protections on the main streets, and to make the walls even higher, cement, rocks, even the bodies. As he worries about the upcoming battle, Kushina implants a curfew. There is no point in fighting for a city if everyone in it is dead, she tells him.

Obito himself helps the new volunteers built the observation posts and prepare the ammunition. It’s going to be a very long wait. He takes some of the watch posts, Kushina does the same. Obito doesn’t ask where her son is, he’d want to know, but it’s safer for her and the boy in case they catch him again. He doesn’t have anyone to protect so on his side there is no trouble. He only has people to kill.

As he waits, sitting on a tree refurbished as a watch out post, covered by a blanket with leaves sewed on, Obito thinks of the few people left out of the City, too small to fight, too innocent for him to throw head on into a war and too safe for him to pluck them out of that safety. Naruto must be with them then, he thinks, surely Kushina moved all three. They can go to pick them up once Konoha is free again, he decides.

 

It is with the first light of dawn that they come. Madara must be rusty, Obito snorts. He had wholeheartedly expected a night attack. Or maybe he’s just so full of shit.

They pound on the doors until they fall, Obito is proud to see it takes them the better part of a day. He order his men to retire, he’s willing to wage this war inside Konoha, in the twisted little streets where numbers don’t matter. When the walls finally come crashing down on them Madara is nowhere to be seen. Obito watches Kushina raging and he has to drag her, kicking and screaming, away from their enemies. She wants him to die for her husband, he wants him to die for Rin. But if they stay they’ll lose their advantage and that’s the only thing they have with which to kill him.

They’ve set many ambushes, most of them are successful and when the day ends, Konoha is covered in blood. Obito retires for the night, dirty, tired but mostly satisfied in a macabre kind of way. It will be a long night, he can feel it in his bones.

He was right. At three or four in the morning, a fire explodes in the distance and then another closer and then another even closer. Obito readies his riffle and takes cover. They come over the barricade like locus before a storm. He breathes in, takes aim, breathes out and fires. One falls, Obito refocuses his stance, peers through the mire and shoots again. Another one collapses. It doesn’t really affect the general attack, but he feels a bit like he’s managed to do something. After many months of doing nothing, that alone is a reason to congratulate himself. He takes out as many as he can but eventually he runs out of bullets and discards the riffle, he could have gotten some more slugs, but the weapon is heavy and it’s easier to fit pistol chargers in his vest anyways.

He thinks for a moment about taking out the twins but then, an enemy jumps towards his position and he realizes he won’t fire in time. His last shot must have given his position away.

Blood trickles down his hand and arm up to his elbow, Obito retracts the sword and reaffirms his grip. He’s never been very good with swords but Kakashi didn’t have pole arms so he has to do with what he could get his hands on. The blade is red, and not for the blood, he thinks it might be some sort of paint, and yet when he crosses feints and the blade is scratched, he only sees more red underneath. He doesn’t know what kind of metal it is then, but he doesn’t think too much about it, it can cut through flesh and bone and metal and that is all that matters.

Obito grabs the handle with both hands and swings.

 

He finds Kushina again in the middle of the fight; they hold each other’s hands for barely a second before turning back to the carnage. Blood and cries and the smell of burnt flesh assault his senses but Obito grits his teeth and pushes forward, Kushina by his side, they are nothing if not survivors.

Then suddenly, the battlefield is plunged into a silence so strong and cold he thinks he’s gone deft. Madara stands there in the middle of everything like a mad God, untouched by the bloodshed. A burning fury invades him. But not just him, by his side, Kushina snarls in unspeakable anger and launches herself at him. Obito tries to follow, but soon his enemies jump him and for a moment he loses sight of her. He swings that sword that isn’t his like a club, he could try and be more elegant, more delicate, but he’s never truly managed any semblance of skill with a sword and now he couldn’t care less. Blood sprays on his face and clothes over the dirt and sweat already accumulated.

It takes him some time but he cuts them down. He cuts them down and yet it’s already too late. For a minute that feels like a thousand years, Obito can see the red and black circling each other, like feral animals. They cross jabs and strikes and words of hatred. That is the man that killed Rin, Obito thinks, but he’s also the man who killed Kushina’s husband so she has the same right he does to his life. She makes him fall, and for a brilliant, breathtaking second he thinks everything is over. Then, Madara strikes, and her blood paints the pavement. Obito desperately runs towards Kushina catching her as she falls, a broken, pained scream on his lips. He doesn’t even look at Madara fearing himself if he does. He’s almost bisected her, the bastard. Obito holds her together, like he held Rin and feels the bile burning in his throat.

Kushina’s death is a blow so hard, for a moment he thinks he’ll never recover. She’s the last feeble tie he had to his past. The last thin rope that tied him to himself. And as he holds her, trying in vain to stop the blood that comes out of her gut, he can feel that fine cord vanishing, the boy he was forever lost in the confines of his memories. When she finally goes, he lays her down, with her fiery hair like a red halo around her head, her fine, pale hands crossed above her chest and for a moment he’s tempted to try and wake her for she looks as if she were just sleeping.

Obito looks around but Madara is gone, and the last of his soldiers are being finished off by their…his men. He raises, grim, with clean streaks painted by his tears on the dirt, he grips his sword harder and walks towards deeper in the city. The child he was, tucked safely to sleep in the arms of the crimson angel that lies behind him.

 

Days, weeks, months, Obito doesn’t really know how long it’s taking him to reach this moment, but however long it was, it was too fucking long. They are alone, with only the blood splattered concrete buildings as company. For a moment he just looks at Madara, his own personal devil. They stand at the same height now, same wild black hair, same pale skin, Obito can only hope there is something different to be found in their eyes. Madara looks as menacing as ever but Obito can’t make himself feel any fear, he’d think that his time as a captive and sexual object had damped his feelings, but he can taste the rage reverberating just beneath his eyelids. It isn’t that he doesn’t feel anything, it’s that he doesn’t feel anything for this man.

Suddenly, Madara launches himself at him, sword first, a mute scream distorting his features. He intercepts the blow quite easily and then the next and the next too, Obito is quite surprised. He wonders if Madara’s heart is not in the fight and that’s why this seems so fucking easy. Well, if he doesn’t want to fight, it doesn’t really make a difference for Obito. He takes one of the twins out and decides to make quick work of this monster that haunts his every breathing, living moment.

The man kicks the gun away and he hastily takes the other out, he only manages to fire a shot before the second joins its sister. But he can see a gash in Madara’s arm where the bullet grazed him, so he’ll consider it a win. Obito puts all his weight in a punch right over the wound and is satisfied to see his uncle recoiling and hissing, much like a snake. Obito aligns the sword and this time, it’s he who runs up to Madara. He yells and rages and tries his damnedest to hit the man, but in the last second he always manages to elude his hits. Obito realizes Madara is toying with him, playing a cruel game until he tires. And yet he can’t think of any way to modify his strategy. He’s never been much of a soldier, he thinks when Madara finally hits back. Obito falls, hard, and is tempted to stay down, he’s tempted to give up. But the months of humiliation, the years of loss, seem to rile him up enough to stand again. Before he does, he grabs some of the pulverized rubble from where he laid.

He’s come too far to lose now. Obito wants, no, _needs_ a win and he’s not above cheating. He throws the dirt and Madara’s face and lunges. He can be worse than this man that keeps pushing all the wrong buttons, he can be meaner and crueler, so he guards his heart and pushes through unwelcomed feelings and strikes, strikes, strikes, until Madara’s sword falls from his broken hands and he can breathe again. Obito points both his gun and his sword at his neck and smiles. He watches the wrecked, bloodied fingers and feels vindicated.

Then, Madara speaks and it’s as if all the air he’d managed to get into his lungs has again, sucked from him. Obito makes an effort to tune him out, should be harder, but his fury has elevated and now seems to cover his ears as well as his heart and he can only listen to a terrible screeching noise as before him, at his feet, Madara moves his lips.

Obito knows the story, of course he does, he heard it from this same lips back when he still believed him. He had prayed then, for this man’s victory, before the opaque veil of love fell from his eyes. Obito had once stood with this man whom now he’s broken and defeated. He had seen wisdom and promise but as he looks for some shadow of former glory in the aged visage of his uncle, he only finds madness. He had prayed and he had gotten his wish. He’ll tear down that wish like he’s torn every other part of his self.

And then, the General mentions Izuna.

“What they did to you will NEVER justify what you did to ME!!” Obito can feel his control slipping, he’s seeing all red and the finger on the trigger trembles. He barely stays his hand. He can’t just shot him point blank, but not because he’s better than that, he’s not. Obito just wants to see Madara suffer.

“I don’t want to kill you father” –I am not like you- is left unsaid, despite his earlier rage, his voice comes out steady. It is the first time he’s called Madara such, but words have power and he can see the General falter. He’s defeated, his weapons too far and Obito’s sword too close.

“You won’t have to” Madara grabs Obito’s hand and pushes it down just as he stands “This is your world now”

Steel and flesh meet in the middle.

Obito feels warm blood wash over his hand, sweeping into his clothes and he barely has any time to catch the man as he falls.

“Why?” his hands are slippery and the blood won’t stop, this is a mortal wound, Obito realizes. Despite himself, he notices the tears starting to fill his eyes. He hates not being sure if it’s due to this moment or the memories it evokes.

“Because I love you, you are the only thing I have left. Everything…” Madara seems to run out of air, but then starts again “Everything I have done has been because I love you”

For a moment Obito thinks he’s being confused with Izuna but then a bloodied hand touches his face and Madara says “I’m glad you took after him…Obito”

He notices his body going slack, after a moment, Obito puts his hands away, Madara is not going to survive, so it’s better if his death comes quickly. He’s beginning to see a pattern here, Obito thinks with a dark amusement that hides an unbearable sadness.

As he looks to his biological’s father face, finally at peace, Obito wonders about his last words and ponders, they were probably just self-justification he concludes and lets go of the cooling body without sparing it a glance, perhaps he’s got more from Madara than he expected.

Obito gets up, and as he walks away, he picks up the crimson sword and a couple of guns.  

 

With his death, Madara’s soldiers scatter, some he finds and promptly executes, some form a resistance of sorts and Obito can’t help but laugh at how the tables have turned. Kakashi doesn’t appear and he feels something cold he doesn’t know how to explain at that. He had thought it would be over if he killed Madara, that he would feel marginally better about something, anything really, but he doesn’t. There is just an emptiness inside him as if he’s lost the ability to feel happiness or accomplishment at all. Perhaps is because it wasn’t him who pierced his uncle’s…father’s body but rather the man himself. Obito doesn’t truly believe that.

He’s taken to call him father in his mind these days. He doesn’t remember when it stopped leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and just started to feel right. It’s not, not really since a part of him feels like it’s disrespectful towards Izuna, the man who claimed him, the man who raised him, the man who by all accounts was his father. Izuna wouldn’t have done to him what Madara did, Obito is sure. But the more he has to fight the more he thinks, he’s turning into his father, the bad one.

That moment, when the man bled to death in his arms, Obito had believed the war was about to finish, but there is nothing further away from the truth, because somewhere along the line, the war stopped being about revenge or freedom and started to be about power and who holds it. He wants the hat, he wants the power to ensure no one else will lose what he’s lost. He wants to create a world Rin would be proud of just like he promised, and for that he _needs_ the goddamn hat, even if he has to drown Konoha in fire and corpses.

 

Three months later, Obito walks through blood and gore up to the kneeling, struggling figure that has been brought up to him. He would recognize that wild, silver hair anywhere. Obito takes his time, as he approaches he can see the nervousness increasing in Kakashi’s eyes. His face doesn’t give anything away but Obito’s insides are invaded by a storm of feeling. He has long since abandoned his hatred, to be an effective commander he needed his head clear but he might as well take his vengeance now. No one will stop him from doing so, and yet…

“Take him away” he orders with a dismissive wave of his hand. He’s proud his voice doesn’t tremble or waver. He looks, dispassionately as the soldiers do as he’s told them without question. Obito ignores the pain in Kakashi’s eyes, because he doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed or pained about anything, and ignores the fear he seems to inspire in the men he now commands. Some of them are survivors from his purge, some of them have been by his side since the beginning but they all tremble before him. Obito wonders what would Rin think now of him, and yet he doesn’t manage to care as hard as he did once. He loved Rin, more than breathing or laughing or living, even if he never told her. But now his love has evaporated and what’s left is the memory of a time in which he was happy. No longer does he expect such event to repeat, not even when his former torturer is dragged, struggling, and silently screaming from his presence.

He turns towards one of his assistants and the man winces, Obito ignores that too, as he orders him and a couple of others to accompany him to the Hokage’s office. He walks at good pace observing the men, his men, cleaning the mess of the last attack, soon Konoha will recover, soon everything will look like his war never happened and the people will be allowed to forget. It’s the least he can do now. But first, he has one last order of business.

Climbing the stairs that precede the Hokage’s office feels like a chore. As a child, he had dreamed many times of doing precisely this, of course he never imagined it would be under such circumstances. And yet, he hesitates as his hand hovers over the handle of the door. None of the old excitement returns. His dreams shattered long ago and he feels alive no longer, barely even surviving.

Obito takes a step back and kicks down the door. The puppet his father, _uncle_ , had installed in his place cowers. Not for long though, Obito unsheathes and in the same movement, he decapitates de man. He simply stands there, watching with morbid amusement as the blood continues to flow from the now headless corpse. Obito then cleans the edge of the sword in its clothes noticing his swordsmanship is becoming much more proficient. He then bends a little and takes the hat in hand, such a simple thing, a mere straw hat with a crude piece of silk hanging and yet it holds so much power… he rips the fabric away, there is no need for the people to see the blood, after all they all can imagine what happened.

The straw hat is heavy as a rock on his head. Below, the gentry cheers when he steps into the balcony, he wonders if they do it because they are relieved he ended Madara’s reign of terror or because they are just as afraid of him. Obito finds he doesn’t really care. He makes a sign and the plaza falls silent, it is fear then.

“Today, a new era starts, the era where Konoha will be back to being the great city our ancestors built, without segregation, or discrimination! Konoha will be again the city of freedom! It will be again the city my Father wanted to build,” Obito stutters, noticing he doesn’t know to which one of his fathers he’s referring to “And we are going to build it together!” This time the cheers seem genuine, but perhaps it’s just wishful thinking.

 

He still thinks every night of the three children, hidden away somewhere still thinking the war is raging. Kushina died before she could reveal their location and none of the survivors know. For days he wonders about what to do, until he realizes the solution. Obito calls them, he broadcasts his message on every frequency hoping, praying they will pick it up. He orders the broadcasts to continue for a week and then another but no one comes. Obito refuses to think they might have perished but the evidence is too blatant to ignore. And yet, when he’s about to lose hope, the three turn out on Konoha’s door, dirty and hungry but very much alive.

The two smaller boys, one with jet black hair and dark eyes and the other with his mother’s face and his father’s blonde hair and blue eyes are holding each other’s hands. The older, with a coloring almost identical to the small brunet seems wary. He approaches them himself and confirms that the war is over.

Itachi cries but Sasuke and Naruto just look confused. They were too small to understand what happened the first time around so they don’t truly get what any of the grownups are fussing about. Obito is incredibly grateful for that.

But then he catches the blue eyes looking around in the crowd and realizes, the boy doesn’t know. And he has to kneel and explain, and even after everything he’s been through, he thinks it’s one of the most painful experiences in his life. Right beside Rin.

 

Obito ensures they are set up in the Hokage house with him and a couple of weeks later when they seem better used to their new life and they come to dinner clean and well fed and with tentative smiles on their faces, he feels proud of what he’s done. Obito feels in that moment, at last, that he did the right thing, perhaps not the best, but the right one nevertheless. The feeling goes out of the window next morning as soon as he sets foot in his office, but later on the day, looking at the once again, peaceful city, he realizes that he’s holding the place for those kids, for Itachi and Sasuke and Naruto, so they will have a better future. And yet, the world doesn’t change after all, and people hardly ever do it. But he can always hope.

 

Obito looks at his purple uniform and adjusts it one last time even though he doesn’t need to. Despite the seriousness of his face, the tremble of his hands betrays his nervousness.

The door opens and Kakashi looks up from where he’s chained. The cell is white, a color he’s starting to hate with passion, but clean and with a fairly comfortable cot. Obito looks stunning, and for the first time, he can see the likeness to Madara. And yet, there is a gentleness in Obito’s eyes that won’t quite disappear.

“So, the roles have been reversed”

Obito smiles, not nearly as kind as he used to “Yes,” he says “I could very well pin you to that bed and take what I wanted” Kakashi has to look away from his eyes then.

“But I am not a drone, and I am not you” The words sting, because there is so much truth in them.

“You are the leader now, the Hokage” Kakashi’s voice unexpectedly cracks. Obito pays no mind to that.

“I am, but that is not why you are still alive. You are here because I wanted you to be, otherwise a traitor like you would have been executed.”

Obito uses his own words against him, just as he used his tactics. He’s good like that, he’s cruel like that, but Kakashi doesn’t retaliate, he knows he deserves this and more.

After a moment in which he seems to wait for his answer, Obito turns around and knocks on the door. It closes with a monstrous sound and Kakashi can’t help but jump to see him walk away in what might as well be the last time he sees him. As he nears the corner, Obito stops and turns his face to him. 

“I may come back, I may not”

**Author's Note:**

> At some point this might have a precuel, but right now I have many other plans including finishing up my ongoing stories. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, if you have any questions, please leave them in the comments and I'll be happy to answer them.


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